


His Sword the Brave Man Draws

by diaryofageekgirl



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Episode: s01e01 And the Crown of King Arthur, Episode: s01e02 And the Sword in the Stone, Episode: s02e10 And the Final Curtain, Excalibur POV, Other, Temporary Character Death, The Librarian (Movies) References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25595872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diaryofageekgirl/pseuds/diaryofageekgirl
Summary: The friendship of Excalibur and Flynn Carsen, from Excalibur's perspective.
Relationships: Flynn Carsen & Excalibur
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22
Collections: The Librarians Prompt Month 2020





	His Sword the Brave Man Draws

**Author's Note:**

> My fifth and final fic for The Librarians Prompt Month 2020! Check out everyone else's stuff [here](https://the-librarians-prompt-month.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> The prompt for today, day 29, is "Excalibur".

_“I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.”_

Excalibur had been dormant for many ages. He sat sheathed in the stone (not The Stone, mind you, but it worked well enough), waiting for one worthy to wield him. The Library had seen many brilliant minds, many courageous and bright souls, but none that earned the honour of wielding Arthur’s blade.

The previous Librarian had tried to take him by force, but Excalibur would not budge from the stone. No one decides for themselves that they can claim this blade.

He could hear footsteps walking towards him, weaving through the stacks. One set was Judson’s, just as familiar as the walls and shelves of the Library itself. The other was new, and that made Excalibur pay attention. An unfamiliar voice to match the unfamiliar stride started speaking.

“Oh, ho ho. This cannot actually be Excalibur.” It felt good to be recognized; several Librarians in the past had only passing knowledge of his story, and didn’t particularly care about the sword. This one, though. This one seemed different, even if Excalibur had only just met him, even if he didn’t know his name quite yet.

“Only the worthy can release the sword from the stone. Try it.” Excalibur didn’t need to see to know that Judson was gesturing to him as he encouraged this new Librarian to pull him from the stone.

“No, no no no. Not worthy, trust me.” Excalibur could hear the nervousness in the man’s voice, could imagine the expression on his face that tried to hide the lack of self-worth he felt within himself. Judson, being the clever man that he was, picked up on the same things that Excalibur did.

“How do you know if you don’t try it?”

“Um, because I’m still not exactly sure why it is that you chose me.” His tone sounded like he truly wanted to know the reason, and Excalibur had no doubt that he did – he was a Librarian, after all, and Librarians always strove for knowledge and understanding – but he could identify a change of topic when he heard one.

The two men walked away, continuing their conversation, but the sword was more preoccupied with other thoughts. In Excalibur’s experience, only those who were truly worthy believed themselves not to be. Perhaps this Librarian would be the first in many, many years to have earned the right to wield him. He tuned back into Judson and the Librarian’s conversation a minute later.

“I cannot _wait_ to tell my mom about this.” Oh, there was nothing quite like a brand-new Librarian. It was time for him to be taught why Excalibur was the last line of defense for the Library. “I mean, she is going to –”

In a flash, Excalibur whipped out of the stone and had his blade pressed to the Librarian’s throat. The man reeled backwards, barely able to keep himself upright under the glint of Excalibur’s steel. Judson stepped in, explaining to the new Librarian the necessity of keeping the Library secret. As he spoke, Excalibur slowly spun to put his point to the man’s throat, ignoring his hoarsely whispered protests. As the Librarian frantically agreed to secrecy, he motioned with his head at Excalibur, careful not to move too much for fear of the blade. Judson finally noticed Excalibur and directed his attention to him.

“Give Flynn some time. You – You’ll like him.”

Excalibur drew away from the Librarian – Flynn. He hung in the air between the men, acknowledging Judson. The scholar usually knew what he was talking about; he would trust his judgment of this new Librarian. With a spinning flourish, Excalibur retreated back to the stone, sheathing himself once more.

One week later, and Flynn has completed his first mission as Librarian and the Serpent Brotherhood was defeated. In the dark of night, long after the building was closed, Excalibur heard footsteps on the marble floor. He didn’t attack; he knew they belonged to the Librarian.

He could tell Flynn hesitated with how long it took for him to reach the stone, and how long it took for him to finally stretch his hand out to the blade. His grasp on his hilt was tentative at first, but as he tugged on Excalibur it grew strong and confident. Excalibur slid easily from the stone.

Yes, this one would do just fine.

* * *

Over the next ten years, Excalibur grew more and more fond of Flynn Carsen. Their friendship began in earnest about a year into Flynn’s tenure as Librarian, once Judson had instructed Excalibur to attack Flynn at random to help train him. He got a certain enjoyment from Flynn’s panicked yelps and meager attempts to defend himself.

He did improve, though, and quite rapidly at that; it was only a year into his time as Librarian that he was able to disorient him enough to snatch Excalibur from the air and hold him in place. Only a small handful of Librarians had been able to best Excalibur, and none had managed to do so in as little time as Flynn. If he could, Excalibur would have beamed in pride.

They only really had one hiccup in their friendship, around six months after Excalibur started training Flynn. The Librarian had been stressed and overworked, not to mention heartbroken. He had argued with Judson and Charlene, his emotions running hot and spilling over like a volcanic eruption, his angry voice echoing in the Large Collections Annex.

“ARE YOU INSANE? I’m 33 years old! Celibate monk?” Flynn pushed past Judson and Charlene and approached Excalibur desperately. “Celibate monk – Excalibur, do it, do it now, just get it over with.”

Flynn fell to his knees and grabbed Excalibur by the blade with both hands. Excalibur struggled against the Librarian’s grip, but he was at a disadvantage; he had to be careful not to move too much, lest he injure Flynn.

Except, that seemed to be exactly what Flynn wanted. He pulled the blade close and pressed the tip up to his throat. His eyes were clenched shut as he continued to mutter and curse at the Library, at Judson and Charlene, even at Excalibur.

A cold thread of fear *zinged* down Excalibur’s blade. He would not allow the Librarian to hurt himself, and he _certainly_ would not allow himself to be used in such a manner. He continued to try to (gently) wriggle away from Flynn, whining in sympathy with his grief and exhaustion. Judson stepped in, and he and Charlene allowed Flynn a vacation. Flynn wandered off, dazed, and Excalibur took the opportunity to retreat back to the stone.

It had hurt to see such a good man suffer so; he had seen it before with many Librarians, but even before that, he had seen it with Arthur. More than just the turbulent emotions, the potential damage that Flynn could have done to himself concerned him even more. Flynn wasn’t yet aware that any wound made by Excalibur would never heal. If only his scabbard had never been lost! Alas, unless a Librarian (present or future) managed to find it, he would remain carefully in check of his own power.

* * *

Excalibur whined piteously as raw magic coursed through his blade. Even his creation hurt less than this, pulled still-hot from the forge and dipped directly into the heart of the leylines. At least then, he was wielded by a brilliant sorcerer, and magic was pure and smooth-flowing. Now, it sprung forth, running jagged and chaotic as the resurgent Serpent Brotherhood finally accomplished their goal.

Only two days ago, he was sparring with Flynn, the two of them weaving in and out and between the stacks in the Library. His Librarian had become a master swordsman, and what used to be intended for training became an absolute joy for the both of them. Excalibur had never fought with a more worthy opponent; he would go so far as to place Flynn above Arthur himself in the art of swordsmanship.

Their sparring had been interrupted by Charlene and, in a mirror to a fateful meeting a decade prior, a new set of footsteps and a rich, feminine voice to accompany them. Excalibur neatly swung away from Flynn’s sword, and in a single, fluid movement, was at the stranger’s throat.

Flynn warned her about his power. It seemed almost ironic, now, if Excalibur dared to entertain the notion.

The stranger was to be Flynn’s new Guardian, and the two of them brought three more strangers to the Library. They had been potential Librarians, had Flynn not answered the call ten years ago, and Excalibur kept a close watch on the Library with so many new people in its walls.

He had been housed in the Library for nearly fifteen centuries, and only once had he been witness to more than one Librarian sharing tenure at the same time. The Library never made the same mistake twice.

Regardless, they were here now, and Excalibur was sworn to protect the Library and with it, the Librarian. Or, Librarians, as the case may be.

If only they had the same concern.

The woman, Cassandra, led the Serpent Brotherhood into the Library. She gave them access, handed over the Crown – _Arthur’s Crown_ – and with it, the safety of the world. Excalibur would have slit her throat himself, would have cut her down for her betrayal of everything that stood against the darkness. He would have, had he been able to.

Flynn tried valiantly to save him, and his Librarian certainly had a greater chance than any other throughout the ages. But the Serpent woman, Lamia, had his king’s Crown, and he was bound to it by a force stronger than any other.

If he had been human, a great writer or creative scholar would have said he was screaming inside his own mind as Lamia took control of him. But he could not even do that. He couldn’t fight against the power of Arthur’s Crown, couldn’t fight the electric burn of raw magic coursing through his form. And he couldn’t fight Lamia’s grip as she directed the flow of that magic and forced him into Flynn’s side. He felt the hot rush of blood and the severing of muscles, sensations that were usually welcome and righteous.

Usually, he wasn’t being forced to kill his best friend.

* * *

He couldn’t tell how much time had passed. Lamia had led the traitor and her Serpent Brotherhood underlings from the Library. Excalibur had been trapped in her grip, unable to even fight back against her. Not only that, but he couldn’t even whine or growl to make his disdain for the vindictive woman known.

She kept him by her side as much as possible, perhaps as a means of protection, but more likely to gloat about how she had overpowered him. When she wasn’t lording her subduing of the blade over everyone else, he was locked in a case, cold metal filled with dark foam. He couldn’t hear or perceive anything other than the blackness he was ensconced in.

The case was opened – it could have been hours later or months, Excalibur had no way of knowing. He was back in Lamia’s hand, the Crown once again (still?) upon her brow. She held a hand above the case, and he flew into her hand, unbidden.

The Serpent Brotherhood hurried about; a dozen or so sets of footsteps and the hum of machinery echoed throughout the chamber they were in. It would be enough to disorient Excalibur, if not for the white-water rapids current of magic running just below their feet. It came to a focal point in the centre of the chamber.

Excalibur could feel himself splitting in two, metaphorically if not literally. That magic was old and deep and so familiar, and the Stone that it congregated upon called to him. But he knew the price that would come of returning to that particular resting place, and he dared not draw closer.

At least, if he had any control over his actions he wouldn’t.

He was lifted above the Stone. Raw magic sparked between the Stone and Excalibur as he was, after fifteen hundred years, finally brought home to rest.

“Return to us, oh ancient world of wonders. Return, and be ours!”

Lamia slammed Excalibur into the stone. The magic sparked, arcing off of the Stone and Excalibur himself. He burned, millions of volts of pure, raw energy coursing through his form. Even as the pain overtook him, it started tracing its way along familiar channels and conduits, cut like invisible rivers when he had been forged. The magic began to drain from him and flow back into the Stone.

Lamia continued to prattle about the greatness of magic returning to the world, but Excalibur did not hear her. All he knew was the electric-blue rush of energy surrounding him.

Soon, he felt a chill in the air. He could hear the sounds of fighting. Above the din, Flynn’s voice cut through. If Excalibur had a heart, it would soar at the sound. He heard Flynn and Lamia fight, metal striking against metal and barbed words traded between them. Flynn let out a triumphant shout of words that Excalibur couldn’t make out.

And then the Crown was in Flynn’s hands. And then control over him was gone, and the magic still coursing through the Stone to him had finally reached a level that he could bear. And then his Librarian shouted out a command.

“Cal, come!”

Excalibur did not hesitate, did not question that voice. He slid from the Stone in the blink of an eye, and threw himself between Flynn and Lamia, parrying her blow. She was an expert swordswoman, no doubt, but she could not compete against his power. With a deft flick, he spun her blade around and slammed his pommel into the side of her head. She slumped to the ground, unconscious.

The action expended what little energy he had left, however. He wavered through the air, trying to remain floating, but there was almost no magic left within him, and what little there was was raw and unshaped, and straining against him to join the rest of the magic unleashed by the Stone.

Flynn caught him, cradling his form as gentle as always. Excalibur wheezed, whined, delirious from the draining of his magic. He could not see him, but he knew the gaze that Flynn studied him with was full to the brim with worry. He felt Flynn stumble and unceremoniously fall to the ground, his back propped up against the Stone as the very wound that Excalibur himself had made upon him finally overtook him.

More footsteps, and Excalibur could faintly sense the other Librarians and Guardian hovering over Flynn.

“What’s happening?” The traitorous woman asked, her voice soft and afraid. Good. She should be, after what she had done.

“The magic’s gone back into the earth,” Flynn responded. He sounded utterly lost, and Excalibur cried for him as much as he cried for himself. “He’s dying.” He felt Flynn’s muscles seize under him, his breath grow even more labored as he struggled through the pain. “I think we both are.”

He tried to give the last few remnants of magic from Excalibur to Cassandra, the betrayer. She held his blade in her trembling hands. She lifted him to her forehead, but did not press him to her skin. A tear splashed, hot and bitter on his metal, and her breath shook with sobs. He knew that Flynn was gone.

With no warning, she surged forwards, pushing the flat of the blade against Flynn’s wound. The last few sparks of magic within Excalibur coursed through his Librarian’s body, mending the damage that he had tragically caused. Startled, Cassandra threw him aside, and he landed on the packed-dirt ground.

He could barely hear anymore; only the vaguest muffled sounds reached him, and he could not tell what they were or where they came from. He felt himself be lifted into the air again, but for the first time in his existence, he could not tell who it was that held him.

“It’s okay,” came a whisper, “it’s okay, old friend.”

With one last piteous whine, Flynn – for who else but his best friend, his Librarian, would be with him in this moment? – lowered him gently onto the Stone. He shuddered, the last tiny specks of magic flittering away, and he felt his form ripple and dissolve, his consciousness falling into blackness, and he knew no more.

* * *

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“Hello, Caledfwlch.”

Nimuë?

“You are needed, Hard Cleft. England is in great peril, and he who has wielded Excalibur must do so again.”

Nimuë placed him in the hands of another woman. She wasn’t one of her Ladies of the Lake, he could tell that much. Her hands were strong, clearly used to using a weapon, but they didn’t feel right on his hilt. Nimuë nodded at the stranger, the two of them sharing a secretive smile, and he and the stranger rose from the Lake.

The water spilled from his form, cleanly bathed from his rebirth in the Lake. A voice he did not recognize but somehow knew as well as Arthur’s rang out across the gardens they found themselves in.

“Cal, come!”

Excalibur flew to the man’s hand, not questioning the order, though perhaps he should have. He fit perfectly in the man’s grip, and he was swung with practiced ease. He couldn’t explain it, but somehow he felt at home with this man. He knew not who they fought, either, but the crackle of magic around him, and the fact that Excalibur was called to face him, was more than enough explanation for him.

The staff was shattered, the sorcerer defeated, and England – and the world, and the Library – was saved. From there, the Librarian – for that was who held him – and his Guardian – who had delivered him to the Librarian – constructed a plan to return them to their proper place in the timeline.

It was strange, being reborn. When he first came out of the Lake, he knew nothing, other than his own name and the memories of Camelot. But between the raw magic that exploded from the shattered staff, and being encased for four hundred years in arcane-wrought stone, he slowly regained more of himself.

He still wasn’t at the level of power that he once was; he honestly didn’t think he ever would be, since magic wasn’t flowing freely through the world again, not at the same level that it did hundreds of years ago. More important than regaining power, however, was regaining his memories. Over the four hundred years they were frozen together, he regained the memories of the Library, of Judson and Charlene, and of Flynn more than any other.

He knew now, as he had known in his other existence, that Flynn was someone special. He was his closest and greatest friend, other than Arthur himself. In fact, Flynn may have taken his place at the top of his list. He would be at his Librarian’s side in any battle, would die for him – and had, in another life. He may not have been of royal blood, but Flynn truly was Excalibur’s king.

The newer Librarians were at work making sure the Library was fully restored. Flynn and Eve stood overlooking the Annex, talking quietly with one another. It was the perfect moment – Excalibur hadn’t had an opportunity like this in over a decade, or four hundred years, depending on how one looked at it.

He flew up behind Flynn and smacked him on the back with the flat of his blade, just as he had done years ago when they started training with each other. The Librarian yelped and stumbled forwards.

“Cal!” Flynn chastised. He shifted, which Excalibur could only assume meant he looked over at Eve, and chuckled. “He’s feeling better.”

He smacked Flynn one more time before flying off to return to his stone. It was good to be home.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The title is part of a quote from the Iliad. The full quote is "Without a sign, his sword the brave man draws, and asks no omen, but his country's cause."
> 
> 2\. The opening line is said by Faramir in The Two Towers.
> 
> 3\. Most accounts of Arthurian legend place the events in the 6th century, making Excalibur around 1500 years old. At least, that was the age I went with.


End file.
